15 minutes is all the Rewind Agency gives you in the past, but for Lara Crane it’s enough time to race through the city, find her mother, and stop her from being killed in a mugging that happened over ten years ago.

But that’s not how it happened. The story she’s been told all her life is a lie and when Lara takes a bullet meant for her mother, her future changes forever.

The love of her life acts like a stranger. Her simple life is replaced with a giant house, glamorous clothes and a new boyfriend.

Except someone knows her secret. And he will try to stop her at every turn as she races against the clock to unravel a dangerous conspiracy.

15 Minutes is an edgy high octane YA thriller that can be described as Back to the Future meets Inception where the people Lara trusts change in an instant. She is in a timeline she doesn’t understand, and is about to make one fatal mistake as she faces an enemy so familiar, he’s family.

Once you’ve seen, you can’t unsee. Everything changes when you’ve looked at the world through . . .

ANGEL EYES

Brielle’s a ballerina who went to the city to chase her dreams and found tragedy instead. She’s come home to shabby little Stratus, Oregon, to live with her grief and her guilt . . . and the incredible, numbing cold she can’t seem to shake.

Jake’s the new guy at school. The boy next door with burning hands and an unbelievable gift that targets him for corruption.

Something more than fate has brought them together. An evil bigger than both of them lurks in the shadows nearby, hiding in plain sight. Two angels stand guard, unsure what’s going to happen. And a beauty brighter than Jake or Brielle has ever seen is calling them to join the battle in a realm where all human choices start.

Giant angels with metal wings and visible song. A blind demon restored from the pit of darkness. And a girl who has never felt more broken.

Brielle sees the world as it really is: a place where the Celestial exists side by side with human reality. But in the aftermath of a supernatural showdown, her life begins to crumble. Her boyfriend, Jake, is keeping something from her—something important. Her overprotective father has started drinking again. He’s dating a much younger woman who makes Brielle’s skin crawl, and he’s downright hostile toward Jake. Haunting nightmares keep Brielle from sleeping, and flashes of Celestial vision keep her off kilter.

What she doesn’t know is that she’s been targeted. The Prince of Darkness himself has heard of the boy with healing in his hands and of the girl who sees through the Terrestrial Veil. When he plucks the blind demon, Damien, from the fiery chasm and sends him back to Earth with new eyes, the stage is set for a cataclysmic battle of good versus evil.

Then Brielle unearths the truth about her mother’s death and she must question everything she ever thought was true.

Brielle has no choice. She knows evil forces are converging and will soon rain their terror down upon the town of Stratus. She must master the weapons she’s been given. She must fight.

Shannon Dittemore has an overactive imagination and a passion for truth. Her lifelong journey to combine the two is responsible for a stint at Portland Bible College, performances with local theater companies, and a focus on youth and young adult ministry. The daughter of one preacher and the wife of another, she spends her days imagining things unseen and chasing her two children around their home in Northern California. Angel Eyes is her first novel.

Silence consumes the assembly now, imposed on them by the sight of an icy white figure dropping into the hall from above. His wings, spread wide, are white save the tips, which retain a char he’s never rid of.

Black-tipped wings for the Prince of Darkness. Healthy wings. Strong wings. His skin shines like polished marble. His hair lies in curls of midnight around his face—still fresh, still bright, still retaining the beauty that seduced a third of the angels. Human eyes would have a hard time distinguishing the Prince from a Warrior like Michael. But the absence of light behind those pale blue eyes hints at the creature’s true nature. And they are pale, so pale the blue seems buried far below, glinting like coins at the bottom of a well.

He’s exquisite. Majestic.

And he’s afraid.

Celestial light has been banned from this place, but even here among the arctic shadows, fear cannot hide. Its blackness swirls in a controlled spin down his right arm, over his well-formed bicep, around his elbow, circling around his forearm and sliding from his palm down his middle finger where it puddles beneath his throne. Tendrils branch out across the stone floor seeking, seeking.

He cups his hand, allowing the fear to pool there. His fingers close around the sticky substance and he prods it, molds it like a human child playing with a handful of clay. All the while, his eyes rip into the demon before him.

After a slow descent, the Prince’s feet touch upon the seat of his throne—the graven dragon behind him. His legs and waist are wrapped in cords of white. His torso and arms are bare. Very little separates him from the other archangels. And yet so much.

Pearla watches the Prince. The Creator gave him beauty—a beauty unrivaled—and he’s taken great pains to preserve it. His time here in Abaddon has kept him from the damage his hordes have suffered in the light of the Celestial. Pearla’s heard stories of the Prince venturing above, but his untarnished appearance alone is proof that his time to heal greatly exceeds that of his minions.

“Sit.” His celestial lips are still, unable to vocalize anything but animalistic rages—like those assembled, like the demon chained to the floor, like every angel he led astray—but they all hear. They all obey. It’s sad, really. His song, like his face, was far superior to all others. Now his mouth is good for nothing.

Wings rustle and talons scratch as countless demons crawl and flap toward rough shelves cut into the cliffs surrounding the hall. The demon chained to the floor drops to his knees.

Humility, even false humility, is appreciated here.

The Prince doesn’t sit, though. No. He stands on his throne, his legs spread wide, looking down at the demon trembling on the floor.

Time has never been an issue for Baxter Jacobs, but then she never knew she had the ability to Bend it.
As her sixteenth birthday approaches, Baxter inherits a pendant that will change her life. Connected to the pendant is a dark and mysterious young man named Declan Ashdown. Trapped in a Time loop for the past 122 years, Declan needs Baxter’s help to escape. The only problem is, she has no idea how to do it.
To acquire the power she needs to free him, she’ll become one of the Interred, those whose Magical abilities emerge as they come of age. When she does, she’ll discover that Declan isn’t the only one interested in the fact that she’s a Time Bender.
As the Interment arrives, Baxter knows this will be no Sweet Sixteen. A vengeful relative and ruthless Council are determined to control her. Declan’s powerful and charming descendant, Jack Ashdown, claims he can save her. She’ll soon have to decide who she can trust, and how to master her new abilities before Time runs out.

Marilyn Almodóvar is the author of a series of YA paranormal novels. Born in Ft. Huachuca, Arizona, Lyn is a lover of words whose reading tastes range from Victorian novels to the books of Stephen King. Her favorite past-times have always been reading and writing, two activities that let her escape to other worlds.
It was this love that propelled her to choose Theater and French as majors in University, with a minor in English Victorian Literature. Lyn lived for almost a decade in England followed by three years in France before returning home to the States. A self-confessed citizen of the world, she is fluent in English, French and Spanish, with basic knowledge of the Italian language. Lyn could happily exist breathing the clean air of Narnia, trapped in a cupboard under the stairs with Harry, fighting alongside Captain Jack Sparrow, doing an internship in Torchwood, or traveling around time and space with the Doctor…as long as she can have Mr. Spock, Captain Kirk and Captain Mal as companions.
Lyn currently lives in Central Florida with her French husband, English-born eldest son, and French-born youngest son. Her debut YA Novel, Interred, will be published by Iambe books on 01/22/2013.

When we reach the front porch, I turn around and try to spot the car while Dickie continues around to the back of the house to check the fuse box. Through the heavy snow, the black sedan continues down the road at a snail’s pace. Something about the slow-moving vehicle inching through the storm strikes me as ominous. I shrug the feeling away, figuring the driver is just lost.

“It’ll be okay,” Dickie assures me as he returns to the front porch. “This is normal for Vermont this time of year.”

I swallow my response. Sure it’ll be okay…easy to say for people who grew up in the North. The only blizzards I’ve witnessed have been through the magic of television. This amount of snow should be illegal.

“Come inside before you really do freeze your butt off.” Dickie opens the door and I pull away from the view.

“Baxter, can you make some tea please?” Mom asks as I walk by the living room.

Nodding, I move to the kitchen where the lights flicker like mad. The storm must be wreaking havoc with the power. As I reach for the kettle, the lights turn off for a few seconds, then back on. It’s unnerving, especially with the wind outside roaring like a wounded animal.

Fighting my unease, I carry the kettle to the sink and glance out the window facing the front garden. My heart stops.

My brain has surely overdosed on scary movies. My hand presses against the window, leaving an imprint. It’s suddenly midnight black outside and I have to glance at the kitchen clock. Four minutes ‘til two in the afternoon, yet the only visible thing on the field is a boy who looks about my age with long black hair, a top hat and a coat. Around him shines a bright, eerie light, as though a permanent spotlight focuses on him. He walks toward the house.

I’m rooted to the spot, unable to move, my body shaking as if I’m under a spell. Even though I can’t see his eyes, I’m convinced he’s looking at me. I’m convinced he knows me.

GIVEAWAY

The giveaway includes:
– One signed paperback of Interred – One autographed Interred tote bag – One onyx pendant inspired by the book – One angel pin inspired by the book – Misc. book swag (magnet, wristband, postcard, phone skin)

Welcome to the Snow White Sorrow book blitz hosted by Xpresso Book Tours! Let’s get things started by introducing you to the author, Cameron Jace!

Wonderlander, Neverlander, Unicorn-chaser, enchanter, musician, survived a coma, & totally awesome. Sometimes I tell stories. Always luv the little monsters I write young adult paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and science fiction mostly. The Grimm Diaries series is a seven book saga that deals with retellings of fairy tales from a young adult POV – it connects most of the fairy tales together and claims to be the truth about fairy tales. I live in San Fransisco and seriously think circles are way cooler than triangles.

As a special announcement, I would like to let you know that the 6 short prequels to Snow White Sorrow will be available on Amazon in a Kindle pack for 99 cents until December 13th. Here’s what the prequels are…

This Grimm Diaries Prequels are a number of short books in the form of epistolary diary entries. The diaries are more of teasers for the upcoming series: The Grimm Diaries, allowing you to get a glimpse of what to expect of the series. The 6 diaries are told by The Evil Queen, Peter Pan, Little Red Riding Hood, the Devil, Prince Charming, and Alice Grimm

Author Warning: these Grimm Prequels are snap shots of a magical land you’re about to visit soon. I like to think of them as poisoned apples. Once you taste them, you will never see fairy tales in the same light again.

What if all you knew about fairy tales was wrong?
Sixteen year old Loki Blackstar is no Prince Charming. His mother is a ghost. His only friend is a red Cadillac that talks to him through the radio. He looks like an Angel but acts like jerk. No wonder he has been banned from Heaven, which is the least of his troubles. Loki needs a job to pay for school and support himself.

Still, Loki has a rare gift: He is a Dreamhunter. One of the few in the world who can hunt and kill immortal demons in their dreams so they never wake up again.

When Loki is sent to kill a sixteen-year-old vampire girl the locals call Snow White Sorrow, he is pulled into a magical but dangerous world. The locals believe the monster to be Snow White.

The real Snow White… living in the ruins of an ancient castle in a small town. She is described as horribly beautiful, terrifyingly enchanting, and wickedly lovely.

What he finds instead is a beautiful monster girl filled with rage and hurt, who has an epic untold story to tell of things such like why the Brothers Grimm altered the fairy tale, who the Evil Queen really is, where the mirror came from, and who possessed it.

Snow White has killed every person who has dared come near the castle where she once lived with the queen. Mysteriously, she lets Loki live, and whispers two words in his ears; two words that will change his life forever.

So now you’re excited, right? (Right.) So here’s the excerpt to make it worse!

Dear Wilhelm Carl Grimm,

She is not that giddy, naïve, and helpless princess she pretends to be. Please don’t let her fool you with her innocence if you see her sing to the birds in the forest. Resist her charm from bringing joyful tears to your eyes, and shield yourself from her devious beauty before she deceives you into wanting to kiss her awake. It’ll be a kiss of death. Your death. That’s how she fooled the Huntsman, Prince Charming, and me, her birth mother.

I still remember the original script of the fairy tale, the one you wrote in 1812. It clearly stated that she was my own flesh and blood daughter. I don’t have the slightest idea why you altered it fifty years later.

What was the point of turning me into an evil, narcissistic, and heartless stepmother, blinded by jealousy and envy of the young princess?

For years, I have been looking forward to telling you the truth about her, but you were impossible to reach.

I am glad I found your brother, Jacob. He told me that you wanted to tone the stories down so children could sleep better at night, instead of having nightmares about the Queen who sought to eat her daughter’s heart and liver.

Shame on you, Wilhelm.

You, of all authors, knew why I wanted to kill her. My actions were justified. I was trying to save my kingdom from her wrath, before everything we loved was destined to an end. The same way you had to rewrite the true fairytales after cursing us, so the War of Sorrows would end forever after.

Night after night, and year after year, parents fed their children false bedtime stories, until your lies grew into inescapable memories. Your happily ever after lies, Wilhelm, shaped the so called fairy tale world.

I wondered why you didn’t burn the original scripts, instead of rewriting them. You must have figured out that sooner or later someone would dig up the truth and expose you. Altering it was the smarter solution. You let children believe that the bites were resurrecting kisses, and that torturing glass coffins were made for sleeping beauties, waiting for a prince to come and kiss them awake.

A wise man once said that the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he was someone else. You did the same with us, Wilhelm. You turned us into pastiches of the immortals that we really are, and made it harder for us if wanted to persuade the world otherwise.

I know that you did it to save us from her. And I appreciate how you concealed our real names, or we would have ended up like Rumpelstiltskin, tortured by those who knew of his real name.

But sometimes, I can’t help but wonder why no one ever questioned why I was called the Evil Queen, and why I was never given a real name in the books.

Was I so superficial to the world, so stereotypical and mundane? Why was I treated as if I were the monster of the week?

You know what I think? I think that the world never got the time to hate me. It just wanted to hate me long before it met me.

If I tell those who detest me about the true nature of their little princess, would they ever care about me half as much as they care about her?

I know that deep inside, they adore me. They like the way I talk, walk, dress, and even the way I kill.

They are just afraid to admit how much they love me. I am the Snow White Queen, strong enough that I don’t need anyone’s pity or love, because I am loved by the greatest and most majestic heart in the world:

Mine.

AND HERE’S THE GIVEAWAY! One (1) prequel pack that includes all six prequels is up for grabs, open internationally! Click HERE to enter!

Welcome to the Frost Fire by Olivia Rivers promo blitz, hosted by Xpresso Book Tours! I’ve got an excerpt and a giveaway for you! But first, let me tell you about author Olivia Rivers!

Olivia Rivers is a high school student, a literary agent intern, and an obsessive-compulsive reader. She has a slight obsession with Kootenai County in Idaho, and she’s pretty sure life will always be awesome as long as Irish accents exist. She lives with dysautonomia, a chronic medical condition affecting her nervous system. Portions of proceeds from her “Tortured Elements” series go toward supporting youth with dysautonomia.

“Magic is just like love, Allai. It won’t wait for permission before it destroys you.”
Like sand in an hourglass, Allai’s future is dwindling away. She’s spent her entire life fighting the Mages who threaten humanity, and dreams of someday eradicating magic. But all it takes is an anonymous phone call for the truth to spill out: Allai is the one thing she despises most.
She’s a Mage.
Though ancient law mandates Allai’s death, she still has one last chance of survival. His name is Drake Rhaize, and he swears he can lead Allai to a sanctuary for Mages. Allai hasn’t seen Drake in years, but she remembers him as the Demon boy who used to hold her close and softly whisper that he’d keep her safe. But Drake has changed since then: He’s now suspected of murder, and has been out-casted for betraying his own kind.
While Allai doesn’t trust Drake, she has no choice but to put her life in his hands and hope he can get her to safety. Because Allai’s father has hired a pack of Demons to bring her back to him, dead or alive–and Demons never stop the hunt.

And now that I’ve got you, let’s have an excerpt!

Seeing him was like reliving a perfect daydream and her worst nightmare at the same time. She didn’t know how to react. She didn’t know how to even think.

She knew Drake was the guy who’d tried to take her life. But somehow she couldn’t feel the right kind of fear toward him. She didn’t have that gut-wrenching, instinctual terror she’d felt toward Silas. Her fear for Drake was way more confusing, but she was slowly starting to decipher it:

She was afraid of learning the truth. Of finding out whether all those memories of him—of his comforting golden eyes and soft words—were real or not.

The thought threw off her footsteps, and she nearly missed the next step of the staircase. She slammed her foot down to regain balance. Her bad foot, of course. Because wasn’t that just her luck?

Pain ricocheted through her ankle, almost tearing a scream from her. But she held it back, biting her lip and only letting out a tiny whimper. Luke was going to have to look at her ankle and make sure it was only sprained, and not broken.

As if on cue, he appeared at the top of the stairs, his arms crossed and his expression turned down in a scowl. Allai read his expression and swallowed hard to keep her pounding heart in place. How could he have found out about Drake so quickly?

Allai gripped the banister, her nails digging into the smooth varnish. She had to tell him. She had to just blurt everything out and pretend she’d had no intention of keeping Drake’s predicament a secret.

“Allai,” Luke said quietly.

She hobbled up a few more steps and didn’t reply. She just focused on the plush carpet covering the steps, trying to dig her good foot into it to keep from slipping. All she had to do was open her mouth and say some simple words: Drake Rhaize is out by the border. Go catch him. It should have been easy.

But it wasn’t.

And last but not least, the giveaway! Each blog participating may host a giveaway for one (1) ebook copy of Frost Fire. Open internationally. This giveaway ends 11:59 PM on December 20th. Enter HERE!

The students of Green Lane Academy roam their halls unaware that below their manicured campus exists a prestigious school of an entirely different kind . . .
Sixteen-year-old Phoebe Pope has enrolled at the Campus Below: a spy academy for shape-shifters hidden deep beneath the grounds of a boarding school whose humans unknowingly protect it. There, thanks to a carefully planned schedule, she leads a double life: spy trainee Below and normal teenager Above.
As if two course loads, concealing a secret power she alone wields, and coping with her father’s recent death weren’t enough, Phoebe finds herself developing major feelings for actor and teen heartthrob Colten Chase, who attends the Campus Above and appears to be majoring in winning Phoebe’s heart. But when officials learn that Phoebe may be at the center of a startling prophecy, she becomes the target of shape-shifting assassins who will stop at nothing to suppress the truth.
Now Phoebe’s lessons about Shaper’s enemies and spycraft take on great importance as a menace stalks the campus, with Phoebe as its target. Meanwhile, what began as an unlikely relationship with Colten, quickly morphs into heartache when she suspects that something sinister lurks beneath this movie star’s glitter and fame. Suddenly, Phoebe’s caught in a mesh of lies, betrayals, and danger where she doesn’t know who to trust, and needs to rely on herself—and her secret power—to get to the truth and to stay alive.

And now let me introduce you to author Nya Jade!

Nya Jade is a singer-songwriter and author based in San Francisco. Her music videos have aired on the VH1, BET, and MTV networks. USA Today hailed Nya as a “young female troubadour worth keeping your eyes and ears on,” in an entertainment feature on up-and-coming singer-songwriters. “Her cool singing voice recalls Sade,” said the LA Times.Between writing and performing new music, Nya took a musical sabbatical to focus on writing a novel—an endeavor she found quite daunting, until she began looking at each chapter as a verse in a very long song. Phoebe Pope and the Year of Four is her first novel.

In her free time, Nya enjoys hanging out with family and friends, searching for amazing gluten-free desserts, and bargain hunting for her next pair of funky shoes.

Nya holds a B.A. in Economics and an M.A. in Sociology, both from Stanford University.

Phoebe was too far away to sense whether the boy had one heart or two. Through the maze of trees with clattering leaves, she could see him moving with purposeful speed. He was headed toward her destination—a brownstone chapel perched at the top of a small hill. Not knowing the boy’s nature made Phoebe hesitate. Then came the sound of tower bells. Eight o’clock. There was no time to think of an alternate route. She was officially late for the Conversion.

A loud, echoing crack quickened Phoebe’s pace as lightning slashed the indigo sky above her. She had barely reached the base of the hill when rain began pounding down. Clutching the camera that hung from the strap around her neck, she sprinted the final stretch, arriving breathless.

Phoebe wiped the rain from her face, and then entered the chapel. Inside, light from moon-facing windows cast a misty glow across the sanctuary, the air redolent with the smoke of a blazing fireplace. She glanced around the heart of the nondenominational Green Lane Academy. It seemed so ordinary, so quiet, even peaceful. Rows of pews with velvet cushions ran the width of the room. She moved between them, taking care to remain in the shadows. An irregular shape in a dark corner caught her eye and Phoebe could just barely make out the outline of the boy. He knelt with his head between his hands, his body huddled against a pew. Praying.

Phoebe paused several feet away and waited. After a moment she felt energy seeping from the boy’s skin, raising the hairs on hers. Cold and electric, it meant one thing: the boy had only one heart. She couldn’t risk him seeing what she had come there to do. That meant waiting. Just then, something stirred behind her.

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, THE GIVEAWAY! The prize is one Kindle Fire HD, open internationally. Yes, I said ONE KINDLE FIRE HD. Yes, I said OPEN INTERNATIONALLY. Click HERE to enter RIGHT NOW!

Like his name, Gray is dark and stormy. Dylan, a girl always searching for what’s next, seemingly unable to settle down, is the exact opposite: full of light and life. On the outside, they seem like an unlikely couple. But looks can be deceiving and besides, opposites attract.

What starts as friendship, turns into admiration, respect and caring, until finally these two lone souls find they are truly in love with each other.

But staying in love is not as easy as falling in love. If Dylan and Gray want their love to last, they’re going to have to work at it. And learn that sometimes love means having to say you’re sorry.

Can two drastically different, imperfect people be perfect for each other?

It’s been four months since Gray and Dylan have seen each other. Dylan’s been traveling in Europe, while Gray has college, baseball, and a life rooted in one place. Gray’s determined to forget Dylan, the girl he fell in love with in First Comes Love. Besides, how do you make a relationship work with an independent loner?

Just when he decides he’s over her, Dylan makes an unexpected entrance back into his life, hoping their steamy romance can start right where it left off. Gray realizes you can tell your mind to do one thing, but you can’t always convince your heart to follow. Dylan realizes she finally has to make a choice between freedom and her relationship with Gray.

Hilarious, intense, inspiring, and emotional, Second Chance shows that love is a journey, and there are never clear road signs or maps to guide you along. You can only navigate with your heart.

So now you’re hooked, right? You know you are. So let me help you out by giving you an excerpt from Second Chance!

DYLAN

I stretch out on the leather train seat and sip the thick, rich coffee Europe’s famous for. I open my journal to a blank, white page. The paper looks like a canvas spread out, waiting for me to create a painting with words. Lately I’ve been thinking about love because it charges me and surrounds me and I crave it, follow it, live for it. Love is the only drug that’s healthy to overdose on.

Which brings me to my random thought for the day:

I think falling in love should come with a warning label: CAUTION—side effects may include sporadic singing in public (specifically Celine Dion covers), emotional intoxication, constant fool grinning, stomach flipping, eye twinkling, heart palpitations, sweaty hands, jittery feet, lack of sleep, giddiness, deep sighs of contentment, sexual fantasizing, uncontrollable bouts of happiness, and the need to help everyone else around you fall in love so they can experience this blissful state. Do not attempt to operate heavy machinery under the influence of love, due to lightheadedness and daydreaming.

I close my journal and take a bite of a chocolate bar that’s cold from sitting next to the drafty train window. Chocolate has become my new best friend. It’s sweeter and creamier than chocolate in the U.S. Each bite is like dressing your mouth in sugary velvet. It’s almost as good as kiss. Maybe that’s why I crave it—it’s a dietary supplement for when I’m away from Gray.

I peer out the window into a dark landscape dusted with lights in the distance, the city of Prague hovering in front of my fingers. I press my hand against the cold glass and try to connect the dots of the city skyline. Traveling gives me this natural high, like all my senses are heightened down to the end of my fingertips. I crave it like food, as if it’s what propels me forward, what nourishes my body. Traveling is like leaving one world that’s black and white and walking into another one drenched in color because everything is so new it becomes enchanting.

The train starts to slow down as it approaches Prague’s station, and my feet tap anxiously on the ground. I can’t sit still. Maybe it’s the air—cold and dense and rich with mystery and texture. Maybe it’s the sense of this new city I’m about to meet, like a stranger I want to get to know. Maybe it’s the third cup of coffee I’ve had in the last hour.

It’s amazing to think where adventure can lead when you trust your crazy ideas, when you’re bold enough to look at only what lies ahead of you. I don’t want the normal life. I don’t want to go to college because it’s the next practical step, just to join the pack, just to follow a leader. I don’t want to sit inside a room under fluorescent lights and study and read and memorize other people’s ideas about the world. I want to form my own ideas. I want to experience the world with my own eyes.

I’m not going to follow my old friends to avoid the effort of making new ones. I don’t want to settle for any job just to get a paycheck, just to pay rent, just to need furniture and cable and more bills and be tied down with routine and monotony. I don’t want to own things because they’ll eventually start to own me.

Most importantly, I don’t want to be told who I am or who I should be. I want to find myself—the bits and pieces that are scattered in places and in people waiting to meet me. If I fall down, I’ll learn how to pick myself up again. You need to fall apart once in a while before you understand how you best fit together.

Few people understand what to make of me.

Except for one.

The more people I meet, the more I’m realizing how rare it is to find someone who lets you be yourself. Who never tries to hold you back, but watches you ride out the wave of intensity and see where it takes you. Gray never held me back. He was like a drug. He lit me up like a catalyst, and I can’t go a day without thinking about him. Half of my journal entries are addressed to him. I take most of my pictures just so I can show him the places I’ve been. I’ve never missed anyone before. I try not to dwell on past memories; instead I focus on making new ones. But now I realize that distance is like a test. If you miss someone, it means you love him. It’s that simple.

I can’t wait to see him again and tell him our story is just beginning.

Growing.

Destined for happily ever after.

I lean my forehead against the cool train window and watch the city lights blink

past me in the dark sky. My shoulders rock forward as the train grinds and brakes to a stop.

I stretch my sore legs and roll my luggage into a filthy train station, but I’m filthy too, so I can’t complain. I grin at the atmosphere around me, the clattering sounds of languages I can’t understand, the bustle of passengers, people moving along with me like we’re all just cells, pushing our way together through a giant artery. I love meeting a city for the first time at night and seeing it dressed up with lights. It gives me time to imagine the rest of it before it greets me in daylight.

I head towards the street entrance, hail a cab, and find myself on a cobblestone street in front of the Czech Inn Hostel. Even though we meet for the first time and I’m thousands of miles from anyone I know, I feel like I’m home.

Want more information on Katie and her books? I’ve got some links for you!